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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25855765">Worthy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahbanana0521/pseuds/hannahbanana0521'>hannahbanana0521</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is New to Comfort, Aziraphale is Not Oblivious (Good Omens), Crowley Has Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Lying, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I Love You, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Self-Worth Issues, Tenderness, apocanope, armageddon’t</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:33:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25855765</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahbanana0521/pseuds/hannahbanana0521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Once he’s finally free of hell’s toxic grasp, Crowley finds that his blossoming relationship with Aziraphale cannot erase his feelings of inadequacy, nor can they ease his anxieties about how long their peace will last. With the adrenaline out of his system, and dark thoughts settling heavily in his mind, he tries to shield Aziraphale from the turmoil in his mind. The angel has other plans.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Worthy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I started this fic last summer as a very self-indulgent way to work out my own feelings of inadequacy, and frankly, I’d forget about it every few months, come back and write a few paragraphs, then forget again. Well I finally finished it! This is my first ao3 fic, but I plan on posting some older pieces as well. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>    Crowley hadn't seen Aziraphale in 3 days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    This was his own doing, not the angel’s. In fact, Aziraphale had tried to call him every day to ask if he wanted to go to the Ritz, or to the park to feed the ducks, or even to go to an auto show (which was really very thoughtful, considering how little he cared about cars). Every day, Crowley had managed to come up with a couple of excuses, although none were particularly good. A prime example was that he had told Aziraphale that one of his plants was doing poorly and needed a little extra TLC (terrifying, loveless criticism) and, in response to the suggestion that he come to the demon’s place instead, insisted that such a soft presence would lower its performance. He sent up a silent prayer to </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Aziraphale would not be able to see - or hear - through his thinly veiled lies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Crowley also had not left his bed in 3 days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Every time he woke up for any other reason than to carefully ward off Aziraphale’s worries, he was thinking. Not kind, carefree thoughts. For a being who was older than the earth itself, overthinking was a difficult task, seeing as he’d already had so long to think about so many different things. Yet, after Armaggedon’t, the night Aziraphale had spent at his place, and the day they risked their lives for each other, there was plenty for Crowley to think about. So far, he’d been able to keep it under wraps, but over the past few days, it was dragging him down to the point where he feared that all his thoughts would bubble unattractively to the surface and scare away the one being in possibly all of space and time that seemed able to bear his presence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>So he laid there, wrapped up in the black satin sheets, a pillow snug against his body, sometimes staring off into nothing, feeling sorry for himself for hours at a time before he finally willed himself back to sleep. More often than not, it was Aziraphale’s ringtone which woke him up and he took a few deep breaths before pretending he was okay. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe staying away will make him realize he doesn’t need me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the demon thought, a stroke of panic nearly causing him to scramble for his phone before he replied to himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps if that makes him happy, it’s what I deserve. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Overall, they were not a fun 3 days for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>In the middle of the fourth day, he was awoken not by his body or the telltale jingle of ‘You Take My Breath Away’ (because, really, even ringtones eventually metamorphosed into Queen - Crowley couldn’t help it), but the sound of knocking on the door. It wasn’t malicious banging, like that of Hastur and Ligur, but a polite rap of soft knuckles, a sound he didn’t hear often but had long since familiarized himself with. Usually, the thought of Aziraphale at his door made his heart leap in his chest, and this time was no difference except that it jumped in panic and not excitement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe if I just stay here, he’ll go away, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought guiltily, dragging a silken pillow over his head. After a few more knocks, it went silent, and he breathed a sigh of relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Crowley?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>The concerned call had him groaning miserably into said pillow, yanking it closer around his ears. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Go away, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he pleaded silently. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please don’t let yourself be dragged into this. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If it had been the first day, or perhaps the second, he would have leapt out of bed, miracled himself into something presentable, and played it off. But now...he was tired. 6,000 years and he was tired of pretending everything was alright, and worse, he was tired of pretending this all on his own. He may have been a demon, but he still craved company, emotional intimacy. He was constantly torn between </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need to keep this to myself, I can’t cause him grief </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need to tell him, he’ll understand, he’ll take care of me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Right now, he was even too tired for that internal battle, and instead resigned himself to waiting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Crowley?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>This time, the voice was far closer. In his doorway, actually, and he could practically feel the pale blue eyes boring into his back. Still, he didn’t move. Curling in on himself like this felt safer, more protected, yet there was nothing he could do as Aziraphale circled the bed and caught sight of his wide open eyes. “Oh, my dear,” he sighed, as if he were relieved. Yet he was still wringing his hands nervously. “I was worried you were taking another one of your long naps.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Crowley continued to stare straight ahead, not so much as flicking his yellow gaze to the angel, whose brows seemed dangerously close to meeting if he continued to furrow them. “Crowley?” he asked, honey sweet worry dripping from his tongue, and Crowley’s eyes squeezed shut, using all of his willpower not to reach for that soft beige coat as he felt the mattress sink under the angel’s weight. A surprisingly soft touch at his elbow caused the demon to flinch, and it was quickly retracted. Tension hung over the room like an anvil ready to crush both of them, silence clutching around both of their throats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Finally, it was broken by a soft, angelic sigh. Guilt radiated off Crowley...or was that coming from Aziraphale? The bed shifted again, and footsteps seemed to echo thunderously in the bedroom, drumming self-hate deeper and deeper into the redhead's heart. “Well,” the blond’s voice squeaked uncertainly, “I...if you need, er, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>me, you know where to find me, dear boy. Give me a call and I...I’ll be right over.” Another sigh. A short pause. Then, with uncharacteristic tenderness, murmured, “I’ll be here for you, Crowley, if you’ll have me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Every soft scuff of the angel’s brogues on the floor as he moved towards the bedroom door resonated far too loudly, nearly causing the demon to wince, and the farther away he moved, the stronger that tug in Crowley’s chest begged him to say something. Say </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So he did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Aziraphale,” he croaked out, although it was still bland and empty of emotion. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>In the blink of an eye, so quick one might wonder if it was a miracle, he was seated back on the bed and Crowley managed to pull himself into a sitting position. He still avoided those blue eyes, though. He wasn’t ready for that yet. “Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale crooned. “Sorry? Whatever for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Avoiding you,” came the same reply, although the angel could tell he was a little closer to opening up. His hand sat palm up on the blankets, which was apparently demon-talk for, ‘I want you to hold my hand, but please don’t make me ask out loud’. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Aziraphale smiled sweetly at him, taking the long, cold hand in his own. Crowley almost stopped breathing as he was once again reminded that this was a thing they could do now, and how calming it felt just to have the angel’s fingers touching his. “You don’t have to apologize, Crowley,” that lilting voice reassured him, then halted, and the demon’s chest nearly clenched as he waited for it to be taken back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “But…” Aziraphale began slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    <em>Here it comes</em>, thought Crowley.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “I’d very much like to know if there’s anything I can do to help.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Ngk,” was all that came out of the snake’s mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Aziraphale seemed to panic and rushed to explain, “It’s just, you seem so torn up about something, and I thought, well, after the trials, everything we’ve been through with each other, perhaps it was better to...oh I don’t know...deal with things together? I do hate seeing you like this. If there’s anything I can do, anything at a-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “You shouldn’t-” Crowley spoke, interrupting, “You shouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do anything.” His mouth opened and closed several times as he thought before continuing, “You shouldn’t have to take care of me or anything, I should take care of myself, shouldn’t I? It’s not your job to fix a broken demon. You don’t deserve…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> No, that sounded like it was Aziraphale’ fault. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Too vague.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You don’t deserve all the shit I’ve put you through!” he burst out, and, upon seeing the utterly shocked expression on the angel’s face, stood and continued, “You could have Heaven, Aziraphale! You could have </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You were so foolish...foolish to leave that behind, and for what? A demon who’s not even good at his job? I’ve had my worth defined for me from the moment I fell from Her grace. Tossed out. I wasn’t even good enough for hell. I’ll never be good enough for you, Aziraphale, I’ll never be worth your attention, much less your love. I don’t understand why you’d do that...I don’t understand why you’d want me. What can I give you that they can’t?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    By this point, he had turned away, arms wrapped around his own torso, but in preparation for his continued ramble, spun around, flinging his arms out as if he were pleading for his companion to see reason. Crowley was trying to convince him of the thing he’d hammered so deeply into his own brain it could only be the truth. “Someday,” he began, voice low and breathless, “You’ll realize that you made a mistake, that you threw away too much and you'll hate me for making you stay here. I'll never be worthy of you, Aziraphale. I'll never deserve your love. Why would you want me? A demon? You can't love demons, angel. You just…you just can't. That's just not how it works.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>   And now, he fought to pull air into his lungs, even if he didn’t exactly need to. Tearful yellow eyes met blue as wide as saucers. His voice cracked into a barely contained sob. “I'm unlovable. I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>fallen, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Aziraphale, don't you see that? You can't love someone…someone like me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Crowley sat heavily on his bed, face in his hands as regret washed over him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why did I do that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought miserably. Silence hung heavily over the room, without the sound of footsteps or even a breath to shatter in. Surely, now, the angel would leave, wouldn’t he? He’d seen Crowley in one of his worst moods since their fight beside the pond. He’d realize what a mistake he’d made in staying on earth. The thought still didn’t comfort the demon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Then, very very gently, soft, thick fingers brushed through messy red hair, the bed shifted, and before he even realized what was happening, Crowley was leaning into the warm embrace, and he wondered why the bed was shaking before he realized it was because of him. Hot, wet tears spilled on Aziraphale’s treasured velvet waistcoat, but the angel didn’t seem to care. He just continued to card his fingers through the demon’s hair, holding him firmly without making him feel trapped. It was a glorious feeling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “My dear boy,” he all but hummed, voice softer than before, yet far more confident. </span>
  <span>“Honestly, that’s utter nonsense.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Crowley didn’t know what he’d expected, but that certainly wasn’t it. “I- what?” the demon croaked, looking up quizzically at the angel, whose lips were pursed into the smallest of smiles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “I just mean to say that you’re wrong is all,” Aziraphale responded levelly, still cupping the back of Crowley’s head, “About having your worth defined for you. You make your own worth, Crowley, whether you like it or not. Whether you’ve done good or bad determines nothing. Neither heaven nor hell owns you now. You don’t have to adhere to their standards.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Okay, but-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “And about changing my mind; I’ve had 6,000 years to make up my mind, and I daresay I shall not change it anytime soon. I decided on that airfield that I wanted to stand with you, no matter what. I chose to stand with you over heaven or hell, and I’ll make that choice a thousand times over just to spend one more dinner with you, dining at the Ritz.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>   “Ngk-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “And one last thing,” the angel said finally, staring down at the tongue-tied demon with such an intense gaze he feared it might burn him like holy fire, and he wouldn’t have minded at all. “You are wrong about being unable to love someone like you. I loved Crawley on the wall 6,000 years ago, I loved Crowley at the foot of the cross 2,000 years ago, I loved Anthony J. Crowley at the church 70 years ago, and I love you today, my dear. I will always love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    It was too hard a thing to say a thousand years ago - oh, even yesterday he may have struggled to confess these sorts of feelings. But today, seeing his dearest companion in such poor shape, hearing him proclaim their relationship unworthy, it was the simplest, truest thing in the world for Aziraphale. There was no other way to say it; he loved the demon. And he would not allow himself to feel any regret for admitting the feelings he’d been holding in for so many centuries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    As for Crowley...well he was dumbfounded, to say the least. The days they’d spent beside each other, free of heaven or hell’s influence, had been nothing short of paradise, to the point that they’d felt too good to be true. The angel and the demon had had many platonic dalliances over the past few millennia, but they were always called away from each others’ sides by some disaster or another, whether it be their respective sides or some natural occurrence. They were honey-sweet and full of some of their best memories, but they always </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>came to a tragically abrupt end. Crowley had thought nothing differently this time either. The eye of the hurricane, the calm before the storm. It was the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Except Aziraphale had never told him he loved him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Aziraphale had never run his hands through Crowley’s hair and held him just so tenderly. He had certainly never…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>    Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    He’d certainly never kissed Crowley’s forehead. Never looked at him with those big blue eyes brimming with some kind of emotion, some </span>
  <em>
    <span>yearning, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the kind of which he rarely ever saw except in paintings. Never let them drift downwards to look at the demon’s lips, lingering longer than was appropriate, surely. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter anymore how brazen he was; it was now or never. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>    Oh holy hell.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Nothing had ever felt so good on Crowley’s lips, on anyone’s lips. It felt like a drop of water from the tip of Lazarus’ finger soothing a sinner’s burning tongue. Like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert, it was simultaneously revitalizing and dizzying, taking and giving in equally painful and healing measures. It was everything and nothing, the simplest experience in his whole life and yet somehow the most significant. He simply could not describe the way Aziraphale’s soft mouth felt on his, and it was borderline embarrassing how desperately he clung to that warm beige coat, more familiar than nostalgia yet somehow wildly different. That kiss was full of contradictions, but it was the most beautiful paradox he could’ve imagined.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “I love you too,” he murmured, barely above a whisper, and Aziraphale huffed a short laugh in response. “I know,” the angel hummed, smiling knowingly, a glint of a smirk just touching his eyes. “I’ve known for a very long time my dear, but I couldn’t let you risk your safety for me and I...well, I guess I still hoped that heaven was redeemable, that I could still do good as an angel. But I suppose I really blew that opportunity, didn’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Crowley thought he was surprised to hear that Aziraphale already knew, but he truly wasn’t. They hadn’t exactly been very secretive about their affection, but it felt like some tacit agreement had been reached that they didn’t speak of it. An agreement they could now happily throw out. Resting his hand on the angel’s flushed cheeks, he laughed and reminded him, “You’re still an angel, angel. You can still do good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Aziraphale began to open his mouth in protest, but Crowley shook his head and put a finger to his lips. “So what if those white-winged wankers don’t recognize it? I’ve seen the amount of people who come into your shop and leave better off. I’ve watched you miracle children’s ice lollies back into their hands and help couples find lost rings. You can’t say that isn’t good, whether blokes like Gabriel recognize it or not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>The angel in question huffed in reluctant agreement, unable to argue. He knew all too well that the demon was telling the truth. Normally, one would not trust a demon to tell the truth, but this one was different. This demon had turned his back on hell just as the angel had turned his back on heaven. Smiling at the thought, Aziraphale smiled, feeling warm for perhaps the first time in his life, and leaned up to kiss Crowley once more. It wasn’t particularly passionate or lengthy, but it held just as much meaning as before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Thank you,” the angel whispered, letting his fingers run lazily through the close-cropped red stubbly at the back of Crowley’s neck. The red on the demon’s cheeks was a sharp contrast to the exasperated huff he gave, rolling those yellow eyes. “Don’t go around thanking me now, angel. You’re the one who barged into my house even after I blew you off, and I did a pretty shoddy job with excuses.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>The angel in question ‘hmph’ed, carefully smoothing down the rumpled silk fabric of Crowley’s night shirt. “Well, my dear, if there’s anything you should’ve learned about me these past few millennia, it’s that I’m persistent. And now that I’m here, I might as well stay the night.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>“Wh-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <em>
    <span>Snap.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Suddenly, the angel’s beige coat and worn velvet waistcoat were replaced by a crisp set of blue and white striped cotton pajamas, a floppy nightcap perched precariously upon his curls. Not only that, but Crowley’s own pajamas were immaculately smooth, the 3-day-old crinkle gone without even a trace. Already confused, the demon watched with a deeply furrowed brow as the angel pulled back his black duvet, wiggling his bare toes before slipping them under the sheets and shuffling himself beneath them until his head rested on one of the satin pillowcases. He looked up at the still-staring redhead and held out a hand. “Honestly, Crowley, do you plan on sitting there with your mouth open all night or are you going to join me?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>Wordlessly, the demon snapped his mouth shut and crawled into the bed, maintaining a careful distance from the angel before he was pulled tightly against Aziraphale’s soft chest. He remained rigid, even as the quaint voice spoke against his ear, “Now, Crowley, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>promise me that if this ever happens again, you’ll call me straight away, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He shifted in Aziraphale’s grasp, already feeling uncomfortable with the idea of asking his angel to come over when he was...</span>
  <em>
    <span>like this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Uh, A-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>But he was already speaking again. “I can wrap you up with a miraculously warmed blanket and make you some tea-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>“Azir-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>“I could even bring a good book to read to you - oh! I think I have a lovely first edition translation of Sappho’s poe-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Aziraphale!”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>Then, as thin hands clutched nervously at his striped pajama shirt, it was the angel’s turn to close his mouth, staring down at the gangly demon in his arms. Crowley looked thoughtful for a moment, pursing his lips before he spoke again. “Can you just...</span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>here, angel? Please?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>Aziraphale blinked, then used one plump hand to push back his demon’s mussed red hair, finally pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Of course, my dear. Always.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Content that the former resident of heaven would at least let the matter rest for the night, Crowley sighed and rested his head against his shoulder, closing his eyes as sleep tugged at him yet again. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Hey Aziraphale?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I love you too, Crowley.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>And it felt even truer the second time around.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>